


i'm so glad i met you

by kaptivated



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alcohol, Amusement Parks, Angst, Choking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Game Oma Kokichi, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), Pre-Game Saihara Shuichi, References to Sex, References to gore, Tickling, everything is ruined by danganronpa as usual, first date kinda, first time drinking, is it platonic or is it romantic? you decide, lots of silly banter, more like sex jokes. no actual sex happens in this story, talking about feelings and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-18 23:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15497004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaptivated/pseuds/kaptivated
Summary: A few months into the start of Saihara's reclusion from the world, he gets a text from someone he never thought he'd see again. Ouma Kokichi is asking him to watch Danganronpa together.Just as Saihara starts to remember what it's like to enjoy spending time with someone, he receives an important letter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everybody!
> 
> After months away, I'm back with a new Saiouma fic. I really poured a lot of love into this one, so I really hope you guys will like it. I'll talk about it more in the end notes. For now, please enjoy!

When Saihara receives the letter in the mail, he immediately decides to burn it. He's not exactly sure why. Maybe he regrets getting himself tied up in this mess after all. Maybe he just wants to avoid the hell that would rise if anybody else saw it.  
  
Just in case he needs it, he pulls out his phone and takes a picture, then shuffles through the kitchen drawers trying to remember where they keep the matches.  
  
Half an hour later, his uncle comes in complaining about the smell. Not in the mood for an interrogation, Saihara holes up in his room and pretends to not exist. When he zooms in on the photo on his phone, he leaves ashy fingerprints on the half-broken screen protector. For a long time, he does nothing but read the letter over and over. Until he receives a notification.  
  
_Ouma Kokichi sent 2 images_  
  
Saihara opens the message and finds some shitty memes about last night's victim. Haha, she had her eyes cut out. Eye see now. Stupid. Come up with a better joke than that. Once he starts imagining Ouma laughing at it though, the corners of his lips start to curl up.  
  
_Ouma Kokichi: you left your bag in my room_  
  
_Ouma Kokichi: you can pick it up now_  
  
_Ouma Kokichi: or tomorrow if you want. i'll be at home babysitting my neighbor's demon child_  
  
Saihara tears his eyes from the screen and heads out.  


* * *

  
"Hello, hello, Saihara-chan! You came back so soon, did you miss me?"  
  
"Your room smells like ass."  
  
"Thanks, you too."  
  
Dirty clothes are piled up on the edge of the bed, soaking up sunlight from the open window. The lamp Saihara accidentally broke last week is still sitting on the bedside drawer in pieces. Maybe he should apologize again. At the foot of the TV is a navy blue backpack. Saihara steps over checkered socks strewn on the soda-stained carpet to retrieve it. Instinctively, he zips it open.  
  
"Don't worry, I'm not the kind of person that would rummage through your things without permission."  
  
"Uh huh."  
  
"Ouch. You wound me. Have some faith in meeeeeee!" Without warning, somehow Saihara is tackled onto the bed, bag dropped back onto the landfill of a floor and Ouma laying with bony arms tangled in Saihara's.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Saihara grabs a fistful of greasy, black hair and tries to pull Ouma off the bed. Ouma responds by digging his fingers into Saihara's waist.  
  
"Fuck-" They writhe around, neither releasing their grip. Ouma keeps tickling him. Saihara half wheezes half laughs. "Fuck, stop!"  
  
"Fiiiine." But Ouma still refuses to budge from his seat atop Saihara's legs, bouncing up and down like a little kid on a trampoline.  
  
"What is with you today?"  
  
"Nothing! I just felt like torturing you a bit, as usual."  
  
"Get off."  
  
"Nah."  
  
"Asshole."  
  
"Saihara-chan left so quickly last night that he even forgot his super duper important bag! And even after my favorite character died... How cruel! I was so lonely! I cried all night long!"  
  
"You hated her."  
  
"Yeah, she was really fucking annoying. Just like you."  
  
"Then get off of me already."  
  
"Just kidding, you're pretty fun to hang around, I guess."  
  
Saihara sighs in defeat and lays down. The bed squeaks under him, springs jumping up into his skull with every one of Ouma's annoying bounces.  
  
"You should get a new mattress."  
  
"What, so we can fuck without that annoying squeaking sound?"  
  
"What."  
  
"What," Ouma imitates, grinning.  
  
"Seriously, what's up with you today..." Saihara rolls his face into the pillow. Smells like Pantene or whatever kind of shampoo it is that Ouma uses. Except his hair is still nasty as fuck anyway. Standing up like some kind of octopus-mop-thing plastered on his stupid little head. He asked about it once, but Ouma got upset cause it's not his fault his body is naturally oily as hell.  
  
The squeaking stops. "I don't know. I'm in a good mood. This doesn't happen much. Have you known me long enough to see me this way before?"  
  
Seven months ago was the first time Saihara talked to Ouma. But even then, they hadn't really talked to each other until a few weeks ago. Before that was just exchanging the same pleasantries and talking about useless nonsense to pass the time.  
  
Honestly, Saihara thinks he doesn't really know Ouma at all. Even though they get together all the time to watch Danganronpa now, Saihara still doesn't know the first thing about what Ouma's really like. What pisses him off, what makes him laugh until he cries, what he thinks about in the shower, what he wants to be in the future. Besides the fact that he would love to be in Danganronpa, but who wouldn't?  
  
Saihara rubs his fingers together, closes and opens his hand. Still a few ash stains...  
  
"I guess not." Saihara pulls the blanket to his face, snuffs himself out. He didn't realize until just now, but he's actually pretty tired. He hadn't been so excited in such a long time, must've been too much for his limp, useless body.  
  
"Well, I'm in a good mood. I predicted this would happen yesterday, so I hid your bag on purpose to make sure you'd come back and join me in this wonderful moment.  
  
"Just kidding. I'm not that devious. I'm glad you came over anyway. But if you really want to go, that's fine. Really."  
  
Saihara barely makes out Ouma's muffled voice through the sheets, but he grunts anyway to let Ouma know he's listening, or trying to. Eyes fluttering open and closed, purple sheets and black sleep. Ouma lets out a gentle laugh.  
  
"Yep, today is a good day."  


* * *

  
_Excuse me... um... hello?_  
  
_Hey, you're Saihara Shuuichi, right? I'm Ouma Kokichi._  
  
_I noticed that we have a lot of classes together, so... uh..._  
  
_I was just wondering if you'd like to be friends?_  


* * *

  
Saihara comes back next week with a plastic bag full of chips and shitty meat slops that the convenience store calls "Chinese food". He had some leftover change so he got a purple soda too.  
  
"Here, I got you something."  
  
"Huh?" Ouma turns the can over in his hands as if he's never seen one before. "Aw, thank you!"  
  
"Mhm."  
  
Saihara turns on the TV and pulls out his dinner. He fucks up splitting the chopsticks and pricks his hand on the splinter, watching as red begins to pool in the crevice of his finger. When he squeezes his hand, the blood finally starts dripping along his skin.  
  
"What happened?" Ouma opens the door with a cup of instant ramen in his other hand.  
  
"Nothing really."  
  
"Stop squeezing it. I'll go get a bandaid."  
  
Saihara licks up the blood before it can drip onto his takeout, then takes a bite of the rubbery chicken. Ouma comes back and cleans the wound like a fussy mother before turning up the volume and slurping up his half-cooked noodles.  
  
"How'd you know grape soda is my favorite? Did you stalk me or something?"  
  
"You told me yesterday, remember?"  
  
"Ew, I didn't know you were a stalker. Disgusting." Ouma sits on the bed right next to Saihara. _Squeak_. Saihara can feel his greasy tendrils of hair brush against his skin.  
  
"Anyway, who do you think is the culprit this time?" Saihara asks.  
  
"Probably Suzuki. Only a freak like her would fuck up the corpse like that."  
  
"Didn't you say something about how the gore was really hot?"  
  
"Are you implying I'm a freak too?"  
  
Saihara answers by giving Ouma an exasperated look.  
  
"Cause you're absolutely right! It was really cool. I got off thinking about fucking her juicy, bloody eye sockets."  
  
"Gross."  
  
"Super duper gross."  
  
"I can't even tell if you're serious or not."  
  
"Hehehe." Ouma slurps up some more ramen, getting flecks of soup all over Saihara's jacket. Saihara's appetite goes to shit once Amami starts investigating the mutilated body, so he tosses his half-eaten garbage away. Ouma starts slurping faster.  
  
"Do you drink, Saihara-chan?"  
  
"No. Why?"  
  
"My parents had some friends over last weekend. Someone brought some dirt cheap vodka as a gift. But obviously my parents won't touch that shit."  
  
"And you will?"  
  
Ouma prods Saihara's cheek with a finger, seeming to be fascinated with the idea of poking a hole through his skin. "I meaaaan, I've never really tried heavy liquor before. Or that much alcohol, for that matter. It tastes like horse shit. But I've always wondered what I'd be like when I'm drunk."  
  
"You seem like a happy drunk kind of guy. Though I don't know if I'd be able to handle your antics in such a state." He starts poking Ouma back. His skin is oily and squishy and shakes under his touch as Ouma giggles in return.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean? I'm a great guy to be around, anytime, anywhere!"  
  
"Yeah, I agree."  
  
"Ugh, ew, you're not supposed to agree with my sarcastic lies. What the hell."  
  
Ouma pouts as Saihara chuckles in victory. It's even more fun to poke at Ouma with his cheeks puffed out like that.  
  
"Saihara-chan is probably a nasty, angry, asshole drunk that'll rip my head off for being too noisy."  
  
"Yeah, I have been meaning to do that for a while now."  
  
"Just kidding. I bet you're a boring old sleepy drunk. You already pass out on my bed half the time. It's annoying when I'm trying to hold a conversation with you like a normal person."  
  
"...Sorry."  
  
Ouma sits up and throws out his cup. "Don't worry, I'm not actually mad. I'm glad you seem to like my company enough to even sleep with me!"  
  
"Wording, please..."  
  
"Anyway, are you up for some shitty vodka? Don't you want to try getting drunk for once?"  
  
"Sure."  


* * *

  
Seven shots in and Saihara regrets everything.  
  
Alcohol really does taste like horse shit. Starting with a fucking 40% volume drink was a terrible idea. Cheap, shitty vodka too. Half the time, he drinks it wrong and it burns in his throat and makes him want to choke. Warm feeling in his chest feels nice, though.  
  
As predicted, drunk Ouma is an annoying piece of shit. Pacing around the room and jumping on the bed like a hyperactive 10-year-old before collapsing in a fit of laughter cause his sense of balance is trashed.  
  
Surprisingly, Saihara is also a pretty loud and obnoxious drunk. At least, compared to his sober self. He and Ouma fake insult each other and argue about stupid things like whether pineapple should go on pizza or whether getting choked or doing the choking is more fun.  
  
"Obviously, I'd rather be choked!" Ouma shouts while flailing in his sheets, trying to untangle himself from a poorly-made blanket burrito. "Although I guess I've never really tried it so I can't say for sure but it's not like that's ever gonna happen with me and my stellar love life!"  
  
"You don't need a love life, if you keep up with your shitty personality then you might get someone to choke you to death so you can finally shut the fuck up."  
  
"Hey, fuck you, your prospects are even worse than mine. Fucking NEET. When was the last time you talked to another human being before I decided to grace you with my presence?"  
  
"Uggghhh, shut up... your presence is making my life worse." Saihara crawls over to Ouma on the bed and smothers his flushed face with a pillow. "Just die already, asshole."  
  
Ouma struggles underneath him, cackling all the while. "Don't worry! I will! I'll do anything you say as long as it makes you happy!"  
  
"Don't say things like that."  
  
"Okaaaaay. How about this: I'll die for sure and it'll have nothing to do with Saihara-chan and his stupid advice!"  
  
Saihara says nothing, but continues his pillow-suffocation assault. An idea seeps into his boggy mind, so he tosses aside the pillow in favor of pressing his fingers into Ouma's throat.  
  
"Hrrk... ggk... ah!"  
  
He presses harder.  
  
"Nnng... uu..."  
  
Ouma looks uncomfortably pleased and also like he's gonna pass out, so Saihara lets go. Ouma breathes heavily as if he's about to cum in his pants.  
  
"Shit, it really does feel good..."  
  
"Gross. Really gross. You're gross as fuck."  
  
"Ehehehe..." Ouma rolls his face back into the mattress. Squeak. With nothing else to do, Saihara starts stroking his fingers through Ouma's disgusting hair. He glances down and grimaces when he sees a tent in Ouma's oversized Nanami pajamas. For a long while, they both say nothing.  
  
It's Ouma who breaks the moment with a frail, exhausted voice.  
  
"What the hell are we doing..."  
  
Saihara pauses, his hand motionless in the mess of Ouma's hair. He tries to catch a glance of Ouma's face, but it's hidden from view. A sense of guilt or shame or some other unpleasant feeling starts leaking into Saihara's veins and he purses his lips, no answer sitting on his tongue. The air between them is tense, held taut like a wire.  
  
"Sorry," Ouma mumbles into the bed. It sounds uncomfortable, as if it were Ouma's first time saying a word he had only read in books before.  
  
"...for what?"  
  
"I don't know, I just..." Despite his hazy perception, Saihara notices Ouma's fingers trembling against the sheets. "We were having a good time and I just ruined the mood. Sorry."  
  
Saihara's face twists in concern. "You have nothing to be sorry for. It's fine."  
  
Ouma doesn't respond. Maybe Ouma is really an emotional drunk after all, Saihara wonders. His head feels overwhelmingly heavy, so he lies down beside the smaller boy. Actually, he's so fucking tired. Is that the alcohol or his sleep problem? Probably both. Whatever. He's kinda cold, but the blanket is out of his reach, so he just tosses an arm onto Ouma in a half-assed hug.  
  
"Saihara... we're friends, right?"  
  
"Yeah, we are."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Ouma breathes out a shaky, sullen sigh.  
  
"Okay... okay."  
  
Saihara reaches a little further to hold Ouma's hand. His fingers are thin and dry and fit right between Saihara's. They've never been this touchy before, but for some reason it seems like the right thing to do. Or maybe the alcohol is letting down Saihara's inhibitions. He's always wondered what holding hands feels like. (He's always wondered what Ouma's hands feel like.)  
  
"I'm going away in a few weeks. I'm moving... really far away."  
  
"...Where?"  
  
Ouma hesitates before he answers, stiffly. "America. We won't be able to hang out anymore. Ah, but I'll still be around for the end of this season. So there's that, at least...  
  
"I guess... I wanted to mess around before I leave. Try new things I've always wanted to do but never bothered with before. Like getting drunk. Or getting strangled. Hehe." Ouma runs his thumb up and down the side of Saihara's hand. "I wanted to try and have fun for once. With you. Because..."  
  
Ouma seems to try and collect his thoughts for a minute before finally squeezing Saihara's hand and mumbling, "I don't know. This is stupid."  
  
"What is?"  
  
"I don't know, I just... It's just..." Ouma shivers and squeezes his hands tight. "Whenever I seem to finally open up and be friends with somebody, I always fuck everything up and drive people away. Like, if I just look back on my life, all my relationships fell apart because I said some stupid shit or did something terrible and honestly I'm an awful person so I get it! I get it." Just as it seems like Ouma is about to squeeze the blood out of Saihara's knuckles, he lets go. He pulls the sheets to his face. They come back with dark, wet stains.  
  
"You'll hate me too, after this. Probably. It won't matter anyway. But, while you still think of me as a friend... I want us to have fun. I haven't had this much fun in so long."  
  
Saihara's flush deepens. For a while, he does nothing, scared about everything he could do wrong in this vulnerable situation. He doesn't want to hurt Ouma. (He doesn't want to hurt anybody anymore.)  
  
In the end, he tentatively wraps his arm tighter around Ouma's still-heaving waist. It hiccups beneath him, up and down, up and down, unsteady. Saihara presses his forehead into Ouma's shoulder, even as the boy inhales sharply.  
  
"Sorry. I never really know what to say in these kinds of situations."  
  
Ouma hiccups again. "It's okay. You, you don't have to say anything. I'm just saying whatever stupid shit is on my mind."  
  
"It's not stupid. And I don't hate you. I... I like spending time with you too. We're friends so, don't feel bad about... this..."  
  
"...Okay."  
  
Saihara lets his eyes rest, lids heavy and pressed into Ouma's warmth. It smells like hot and sour ramen and whatever kind of shampoo it is that Ouma uses. It's sweet. He should stay up, it'd be terrible to leave Ouma alone while he's like this, alone with just his thoughts and a bottle of vodka. But he really can't handle consciousness for much longer. He swears he can feel Ouma's heartbeat in his fingers. _Ba-dum. Ba-dum_. Or is it just the rush of blood in his ears? _Ba-dum. Ba-dum_.  
  
Saihara falls into a dream.  


* * *

  
_hi saihara-chan!! i haven't seen you in a while huhh_  
  
_i hope you're still doing ok_  
  
_have you started watching the new season yet?_  
  
_my parents go out evwry week to watch with their friends and i thought, hey, that seems. like a fun idea_  
  
_so basically_  
  
_i'm asking if you want to come over tonight and watch dr together_  


* * *

  
While at first glance it looks like black ink, when inspected closely, there's a hint of indigo. The egg-white paper it's printed on has the smallest rivets, and sometimes the ink thickens and thins out on the uneven surface. Double spaced and in an unnecessarily small font, it details a single date:  
  
_June 22, 2047_  
  
Saihara's eyes burn from studying the photo for too long, but he really couldn't care less. This morning, he read it 8 times. After lunch, 3 times. Throughout the afternoon, 13 times. When he finally left his house to visit Ouma's, 6 times. From Ouma's doorstep on, he locks his phone and tucks it among the snacks in his bag.  
  
He thinks any normal person would smile when that date burns into his retinas through the LCD, but for some reason, his expression is blank. Maybe something is wrong with him. He's not sure what to feel.  
  
With the key Ouma's given him, he welcomes himself inside. As he sets his dirty Converse on top of the shoe rack, he notices the crooked calendar hanging beside the doorframe. For June, a picture of the Season 46 cast at the beach.  
  
His eyes linger on the bright red 22.  
  
"Saihara-chan! Helloooooo!"  
  
A pair of lanky arms grab his waist from behind and the shape of a head seems to press into his spine. Pink dusts Saihara's cheeks at the unfamiliar greeting.  
  
"Are you in a good mood again or something? So touchy..."  
  
"Yeah, I'm feeling the best I've ever been in my whole life!" His arms squeeze tightly and Saihara can feel his lunch of microwaved ravioli lurching around inside. "Just kidding. I feel really shitty today."  
  
Not sure what to believe, Saihara just follows along. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Hmmm... Who knows..." The words rumble against Saihara's shoulderbones. Ouma continues to hum quietly against him, the vibrations spreading throughout Saihara's skin. While Ouma seems to ponder whether or not to divulge more of his thoughts, Saihara silently cherishes the feeling of another person beside him.  
  
Ever since that one night, he and Ouma haven't really made physical contact, and Saihara misses it more than he'd ever admit. They didn't really talk about what happened either, even though with the different atmosphere between them, he knows that Ouma must have remembered everything. There was less ambiguity, he supposed, about what exactly their relationship was. In bits and pieces, Ouma opened up a little more to his new friend.  
  
Saihara blinks. The 22 is still screaming at him like the red, summer sun against closed eyelids. He wonders what he should do with Ouma before that day comes. He doesn't have much money, but since he might as well spend it all before Saturday, he's prepared to indulge Ouma in whatever his fickle heart desires.  
  
He presses a hand against the one clenched against his abdomen. It's cold.  
  
"This may be a bit out of line for me to say, but... If there's something on your mind, don't feel bad about saying it." He swallows. Reminds him of himself, a few months ago. But it's not about him right now. "I know that... it can be hard to talk about yourself. But if I can help somehow... I will."  
  
A sigh finally escapes from Ouma's pale lips. "If I say it, you'll think I'm disgusting."  
  
"...You were the one that said I was going to hate you anyway."  
  
Ouma chuckles hollowly. "That's true." He squeezes Saihara a little harder. "But not yet."  
  
Saihara has half a mind to respond, "No matter what you say, I don't think I could ever hate you," but his throat closes up. Is it because it's too cliché, or because he knows it's not entirely true? When Ouma finally releases his hostage and starts pacing down the hallway, Saihara lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding.  
  
"Anyway! Shitty mood cancelled! I'm feeling much better after hugging it all out." Saihara frowns, but doesn't say anything as he follows Ouma into his bedroom.  
  
"I can't wait for hot daddy Amami-chan to expose the mastermind tonight! Aren't you excited, Saihara-chan?" He flops onto the bed with an ear-screeching squeak and turns on the TV. "I'm so excited that I might just bust a nut right now."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Saihara unzips his bag and pulls outs 2 cans of that shitty purple soda and Ouma's favorite flavor of chips: yogurt flavored. "Here, treat yourself."  
  
"You... bought this... for me?" Ouma breathes out in an overly dramatic fashion before starting to sob violently. "N-No one's ever done something so nice for me before! Ever! I owe you my life, Saihara-chan!"  
  
"You're welcome." Beneath the rim of his hat, Saihara smiles ever so slightly.  
  
As Ouma wipes away his fake tears and shoves a handful of chips into his mouth, Saihara sits beside him.  
  
"What's your guess this time? For the mastermind."  
  
"Figure it out yourself, dumbass."  
  
Saihara snatches the chip bag away. "I don't think you deserve this anymore."  
  
"Hey!" Ouma jumps up, but Saihara raises his arm up well above the smaller boy's height. "Give it back!" They both stand up as Ouma continues hopping up and down like a dog begging for food. "Pleeeeeeaaaase?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Fuck off, those chips are mine!"  
  
"Yeah, after I so kindly gave them to you. After buying them. With my money."  
  
"Once you gift something it's not yours anymore, didn't you ever learn that?"  
  
"Hm... Guess not."  
  
Ouma jabs him in the stomach. Twice. Saihara doesn't give in. Ouma tries tickling next, but Saihara blocks his attack with his free arm.  
  
"Aaaaagghh, stop being so fucking tall!"  
  
"Why don't you stop being so fucking short?"  
  
"I can't help it, stop bullying me!"  
  
Ouma falls facedown on the bed in defeat.  
  
"Uuu... Saihara-chan is a big, mean bully..."  
  
Saihara laughs as he sets the bag of chips by Ouma's head. The black mop of hair perks up.  
  
"Just kidding! I love Saihara-chan so much! He's such a kind person!" Another sloppy handful of chips shoved into his mouth.  
  
They sit beside each other again as the opening comes to a close. Ouma leans his head against Saihara's shoulder, his still-greasy hair rubbing against Saihara's neck.  
  
"Are you feeling better now?"  
  
"...Yeah. Thanks."  
  
They stay like that for a few hours, sharing yogurt flavored chips as 4 characters in a screen argue for their lives.  


* * *

  
"When exactly are you moving?"  
  
"This weekend."  
  
"You aren't coming back?"  
  
"Probably not."  
  
The two of them lie motionless on the bed, staring up at the black ceiling. How long have they been lying here talking about the finale? Saihara glances at his phone.  
  
_June 20, 2047 4:43 AM_  
  
It's so surprising, he almost wants to laugh. He hasn't been able to stay up this late in such a long time. While talking with Ouma, he didn't even realize he was tired. Reminds him of when he still hung out with old friends from school, before his life started falling apart at the seams.  
  
He bites his lip. He should ask now before he falls asleep for who-knows-how-long again.  
  
"Do you want to do something together before you go?"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"I don't know, whatever you want. I have nothing else to do. I'll treat you."  
  
"Wow, look at you. You really want to waste your money on me?"  
  
"It's not a waste. You're my only friend, after all."  
  
Ouma snorts. "Pfft, what kind of loser just admits he only has one friend like that? Not surprising. You are a shut-in failure to society, after all. I'm surprised you even managed to socialize with me for more than 10 minutes!"  
  
Saihara tenses. Even if he agrees, the words still make his chest hurt, more than he'd like to admit.  
  
It's not like he was always like this, the retort burns on his tongue. Just a year ago, he had been trying just like everybody else to live a normal life. Waking up every morning to go to school, getting average scores on tests about things he didn't really care about, coming home and watching Danganronpa until he finally passed out.  
  
After a certain point, things changed. His guilt festered until he fell into a depressive state. He started falling asleep earlier, and longer. After a while, he couldn't keep up with everything he was missing, so he stopped forcing himself to try. Anyway, the world wouldn't be any worse off without him in it. He wouldn't be around to ruin anybody else.  
  
He blinks. The ceiling needs a new paint job.  
  
Ouma's voice softens. "Sorry. I went too far again, didn't I?"  
  
Saihara flinches as something cold tangles into his hand, relaxing when he realizes whose it is.  
  
"You're my only friend too. See, we can be losers together." He lets out a pathetic laugh that sounds more like a kicked dog. "Then, how about the amusement park?"  
  
"In the city?"  
  
"Yeah. A 2 hour drive isn't the worst. Have you been before?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Me neither."  
  
"Let's go tomorrow morning? Like, tomorrow tomorrow and not 3 hours from now."  
  
"Sounds good."  
  
Ouma curls up beside Saihara like a cat. Without a word, they watch the sun rise until their minds go blank.  


* * *

  
_hey_  
  
_don't leave me on read that's rude_  
  
_even though i haven't seen you at school in 2 months i know you're still in town cause i mean where else woukd you go_  
  
_right?_  
  
_um hey. really. idk why you've kinda disappeared but i really do hope you're doing ok. if you're staying holed up in your room all day you're just gonna feel shittier the longer you let yourself be alone_  
  
_it's like that for me at least_  
  
_it'd make me really happy if you came over tho. we can wat ch your favorite season if you want?? it was season 17 right? even tho your fave is kirigiri_  
  
_Ouma Kokichi sent you his location_  
  
_here's my address. come over whenever! my door is open_  
  
_...seriously, you should come over_  
  
_i miss you_


	2. Chapter 2

Saihara had never really felt like his life was in real danger until he stepped into the passenger seat of Ouma Kokichi's car.

He's not really a reckless driver, just... stupid? While checking his blind spot to change lanes, Ouma forgets that there's a car in front of him and has to swerve sharply out of an accident. Then he apologizes profusely for the next 5 minutes, explaining that he hasn't had to drive on the highway since he got his license. He also seems to start panicking when a car creeps up on him, his hands squeezing way too tight on the leather wheel as he starts talking to himself. The next minute, he's 20 miles above the speed limit because he lets his nerves take over.

Oh, and for some reason, the music of choice is a mix of Taylor Swift and kawaii future bass or whatever that shit is called.

It's been an hour like this. Saihara's gonna throw up.

"I can drive if you're getting tired," he proposes. _Please for the love of god let me drive instead_.

"No, no! I'm ok! Don't worry!" Ouma's voice is oozing with anxiety.

"Ouma, please just pull over and let me drive. I insist."

"Pull over? Ok... um... that's still 2 lanes over..."

"Oh dear god..."

"Sorry! Sorry, I can do it."

"You can do it. Relax."

Ouma waits a minute for the traffic to clear completely before finally stopping at the side of the road. With his head hung over, he promptly switches seats with Saihara.

"Sorry. I thought I'd be able to handle it."

"Don't worry. Just take a nap or something ok? I'll wake you up when we're almost there."

"Okie dokie. You sure you'll be ok without having a lovely conversation with moi?"

"Go to sleep."

Once Ouma is out cold, Saihara turns the music off. Good riddance.

When he's off the highway and stopped at a red light, he glances at his sleeping companion. His head is tilted toward the window at an angle that makes Saihara's own neck start aching. A strand of black hair is caught in his mouth, which is gaping open as if mid-yawn.

Saihara smiles, then pokes the boy's cheek.

"Hn.. huh?" His purple eyes squint open.

The light turns green, he turns left.

"We're almost there, sleepyhead."

"Eh? We are?" That annoying childlike energy jumps back into his body. "Really?"

"You sure do snore a lot. Like a middle-aged dad."

"No, I don't! I sleep the same way I live, like an angel!"

"Like an obnoxious brat."

"Fuck you," Ouma sneers with a playful grin.

Saihara follows the GPS's instructions deep into the city. He doesn't want to seem like a wide-eyed kid, but he can't help but be amazed by the different atmosphere. He vaguely remembers visiting once a year in his childhood, back when he was still living with his parents. His uncle isn't much for travelling, preferring to spend his vacations at home reading a new book, which suits Saihara just fine.

"Hey, did you know if you take a left here, there's a super duper fun arcade with tons of cool prizes? I'm the champion of the claw machine. I win 73% of the time."

"You've been here before?"

"Um, duh. Who hasn't been to the city at least once?"

"Ok, ok..."

Ouma kicks his feet against the glove compartment. Monokuma socks.

"I also lived here for 16 years, so uh... there's that."

"Really..."

"I guess I never brought it up. I did transfer in the middle of junior year, though. You could've guessed, maybe."

"Just never thought about it, I suppose."

Saihara taps his fingers on the wheel. He asks himself again how much he really knows about Ouma. Is he even paying attention at all?

He should try harder but at this point, there's no use. He sighs. Tomorrow is coming too soon.

"Hey, worrywart, quit it with that broody look! We're gonna have fun today! Right?"

"Yeah. Of course."

 

* * *

 

The traffic in the city is terrible and annoying as hell, so the two barely arrive at the park in time for lunch.

"Even after we got up super duper early so we could spend all day here! I'm angry! So pissed! Mood: ruined!"

"You screamed like a little girl when you saw the roller coasters. And then ran up to the guy in the hotdog suit begging for a photo as soon as we got through the gates."

"Yes! I did, and very angrily!"

"Glad you're having fun."

Ouma shuts up, then stutters a few um's and oh's before coughing and proposing to try the spinny cups. Saihara agrees and Ouma takes off through the busy Friday crowd, dragging his friend by the hand.

They hop into the purple teacup at Ouma's request, or command. He furiously spins the wheel, laughing maniacally as Saihara starts sliding uncontrollably in his seat. Eventually they bump into each other and burst out laughing.

The pair plays a lot of random word games and rock paper scissors waiting in line for the biggest attraction: a roller coaster with its peak towering over the whole park. Saihara is pretty good at coming up with words, while Ouma gets stuck and then pouts when Saihara makes fun of him for it.

Ouma decides to wait an extra 20 minutes just to sit in the front seat, much to Saihara's dismay.

"It's the best possible experience! We already waited forever in line, what's a few minutes extra?"

"I mean, it's probably not that much better."

"It is, it is! Believe me! You believe me, right?"

"Not for a second."

"Liar. You hang on my every word."

"What the hell are you talking about..."

"I'm talking about you hanging on my every word. Duh. Pay attention."

"No."

"Could it be... is Saihara-chan afraid of roller coasters?"

Saihara can feel his lunch rising up his throat already. "O-Of course not."

"Wait, you're actually scared? Really?"

"Don't give me that look..."

Ouma shakes him by the shoulders. Saihara's mouth starts to taste half like expensive amusement park burgers and half like sour stomach fluids.

"What the fuck? You should've said so earlier, idiot! Let's go... the exit is ri-"

"No, no, no, no, you are going in the front seat of this hell ride and you are gonna have the best possible experience."

"God, you didn't have to wait in line with me just for this... You were actually gonna ride with me too, dumbass!" Ouma punches his chest like a kid at their parents' knees. "Stupid Saihara-chan!"

"Stop hitting me before I puke on your ugly face. I get it, ok? I won't force myself. But you're still going."

"Ugh... fine. Wait for me at the bottom, ok?"

"Got it."

The ride attendants have already gathered at the scene of their "argument", so Saihara lets them lead him to the exit.

He sits on a bench, watching as kids run by with colorful balloons that are way too big to bring home. Maybe he should get some for Ouma. Above him is the sound of screaming and the loud rickety-racket of the tracks. He looks up, eyes following the head of the cart. Looks like some black-haired midget in a cheap Nanami tee is leading the charge, his arms in the air only just as tall as the girl sitting next to him.

Saihara grins. This is much more fun than riding that giant monster.

A familiar face soon comes running out of the exit.

"You scream like a lost toddler."

"Aw, you were listening just for me? I'm flattered."

"You're welcome."

"Are you feeling ok?"

"Yeah, thanks. Did you have fun?"

"Yep. It was super duper fun. Too bad Saihara-chan is a pussy. I wish I could've held onto him while screaming like a lost toddler instead of going alone."

"Come on..."

"Just kidding. Let's go do something fun, together! How about snacks?"

"Those overpriced hunks of junk? Sure thing."

For Ouma, Saihara buys a bag of cotton candy 5 times as big as his head. For himself, a plain hotdog with relish squeezed on top.

The pair waste $50 failing to toss hoops onto dirty glass bottles. They rear-end each other in bumper cars until their heads hurt like hell. Ride dinky little ponies on a merry-go-round full of grade schoolers. Sip on large colas while sitting on a bench and coming up with backstories for people that walk by. She's a computer science major that makes DR fangames, he's a delinquent kid playing hooky again. They laugh until they snort soda up their noses, then laugh some more.

The sun starts to set. The silhouette of a wheel beckons in the distance.

"Come on, before the park closes. Let's go!"

 

* * *

 

"It's a really beautiful sunset today."

"Yeah, for sure..."

Exhausted from their entire afternoon of playing nonstop, the boys wordlessly agree to stare out the glass in silence as the sun sleeps in the city skyline. The sky, dyed crimson and a faded purple, glows through the haze of a thin cloud of pollution. As they rise higher and higher into the air, the city streets come into view. Skyscraper lights and cars shine against the gray earth like stars dancing in the night sky.

Something starts pricking at Saihara's eyes. His breath quickens, shallow but heavy. No, he doesn't want this. He doesn't want this day to end. He blinks. Again. Again. His eyes won't stop stinging.

He turns, and his breath stops.

The boy sitting in front of him, with the sun casting a glow on his face into the likeness of an angel, stares out the window with tears in his eyes.

"Saihara, did you know? Today is my birthday."

"What?"

"You didn't." He laughs softly. "I'm 18 now. I made it. Adulthood has been achieved."

He sniffles, eyes unmoving.

"Thank you, Saihara. So much. Today was... the best I've ever had."

"...Of course. I'm glad."

"Saihara? We're friends, right?"

"Yeah."

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"...Yeah."

"I..." Ouma swallows and wipes the snot off his lip. "I lied to you. Sorry. I'm sorry."

"About what?"

"I'm not moving. I was... I mean, I'm going to... well..." He reaches into his pocket, the sounds of crumpling paper and the turning of the wheel overlapping each other. He unfolds the egg-white paper and hands it to Saihara. Written in black ink with the slightest hint of indigo are words he's read a thousand times.

_To Ouma Kokichi,_

_Congratulations! We are very pleased to inform you that you have been selected as a participant in the 53rd season of Danganronpa._

_Team Danganronpa prides itself on producing the highest quality entertainment on a global scale. We evaluated millions of auditions for this season, and are confident that you qualify to join our upcoming cast._

_On June 22, 2047, please come to our headquarters in Tokyo, Japan. You will be given a contract for your personality transformation in preparation for the show. From then on, we will provide your lodging as we prepare the show. Should you wish to withdraw, you must inform our headquarters at least 3 weeks before the aforementioned date. Any application for withdrawal beyond this deadline will not be considered. We will retrieve you if you do not comply._

_Once again, congratulations! We look forward to seeing you again soon._

_Team Danganronpa_

God, it's so fucking funny. Now that he thinks about it, there was no sign of Ouma having packed at all. So that's why he did all that stupid shit like stealing his parents' vodka and begging Saihara to see him everyday and rewatch all their favorite episodes. A last effort to live before having everything erased. To think, all this time, Saihara was busy worrying about how much his friend would hate him if he knew the truth, wondering if he'd seethe with jealousy like anybody else would.

He laughs. Small, at first, but low and gutteral. He crushes the god-forsaken paper in his sweaty, dirty hands. He can't control himself, his shoulders shaking violently. A hollow sound escapes his lips.

"Oh, are you fucking kidding me? You too... ahaha... haha!" His chest hurts. It hurts. He's going to spit his lungs out.

"S-Saihara... you..."

Saihara wheezes as his laughter fades away. He unlocks his phone, flicks to the right and opens his photos as he's done so many times. He hands it to the boy across from him.

"All this time, I thought you would hate me if you knew. So I never said a word. But all along, haha... who knew things would be like this..."

Ouma's lips tremble as his eyes flick back and forth across the screen reading Saihara's letter. "N-No, but... I..." Reality sinks in. He puts his hands on Saihara's, shaking them about like he's holding on for dear life. "I wouldn't hate you, ever. I couldn't! You know? Before I met you, I... I...!"

He leans his head forward like he's gonna hurl, then his whole body forward like he's gonna faint. His greasy, black hair veiling his face as his frail, petite skeleton shrivels up on itself. "I was so lonely... I was always so lonely! You're... no, no, no, no, no... I don't want you to die!"

"Ouma, you n-"

"I don't want you to die!" he cries out, piercing and anguished and it cuts Saihara's soul. His heart sinks like a crushing weight. Crushing until his innards burst open. Ouma likes that kind of stuff, right?

"You deserve to live and be happy. You, at least..."

Saihara grimaces, a bitter smile forcing his lips upward. "Sorry. I can't seem to do both. At least, that's what I've always thought."

Teardrops soak into the filthy floor of their confined little space. They've reached the top of the loop. It can only go down from here.

"Ouma, can I tell you a secret too?"

The shaking boy doesn't look up, but nods numbly with a whimpering sound.

"I..." Saihara freezes. Why? Why is his vision so blurry? Why is it so hard to breathe?

"I don't want to go."

He heaves. In. Out. He forces himself to be still. He can't do it as well as he used to, but his breathing still starts to steady, slowly.

"I used to. God, I really wanted to. More than anything. All I could think about, every single fucking day, was how much I wanted everything to be over. I wanted to suffer and I wanted the world to laugh at it.

"Hey, Ouma..." His hands squeeze back. "Have you ever imagined what it'd be like to cut off from every relationship you've ever had and just fuck off for good? Have you ever hated yourself so much because you seem to ruin everything you touch? And then hated yourself some more for not having the motivation to actually get off your miserable ass and change?"

Ouma leans further so that his head rests on Saihara's lap. He can feel his pants getting soaked where Ouma's eyes are supposed to be. "Yeah... yeah. Yeah, I have."

"You get it, then. Why I auditioned."

"Yeah. It's... the same for me."

"You? You're so kind though, Ouma."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not, not at all."

"Kinder than I could ever be. Who else bothered checking if I was alive after I dropped out? No one. You say you were lonely, but I'd rather be lonely than hurt everybody that bothers to get to know me."

"You're wrong... You haven't hurt me. Even though I'm so disgusting. I'm disgusting. Inside and out."

"I disagree."

"What the hell do you even know about me?"

The words slap Saihara in the face.

"Sorry, I just mean..."

"No, you're right. Even after all of this, I still barely know a thing about you. But... I do know a little. Like how you love sweets so much that you have 5 cavities. Your favorite soda is grape-flavored. Your favorite chips are yogurt-flavored. It's the weirdest combination in the world but you think that that's a good thing, it's unique." The two of them sink down with the sun, wheel turning, clock turning towards fate. Saihara inhales sharply, then goes on.

"You love Nanami cause she's so nice to everyone and her mannerisms are cute. You like to stay up late reading fluffy fanfiction. You draw sometimes with that one set of 36 colored pencils. You're really into body horror and gore and you aren't afraid to talk about it. You hate it when people tell you to wash your hair cause you really do shower every day. You bounce on your knees when you get really excited. You never look me in the eye when you're being serious."

Ouma's head stays put in his lap, heavy between both of their hands. No eye contact. Just silence. The wheel creaks as they go lower, lower still.

"Saihara... what made you change your mind? About being in Danganronpa."

"Well, that's because some weirdo from school decided to remember I exist and texted me practically begging to hang out with him."

"Sounds like a loser."

"Yeah, he likes to cry all over my lap after having the best birthday ever. But I don't mind. It... makes me happy to know that he trusts me."

Ouma laughs weakly, finally raising his head and wiping at his cheeks with the back of his hand. "Yeah? That's good."

Saihara pulls out a pack of tissues from his left pocket and helps Ouma clean the slobber of tears, saliva, and snot all over his face. Ouma keeps apologizing and Saihara assures him that it's fine every single time.

Twelve minutes, the attendant said. Ouma returns his phone and he checks the time. Three more minutes until they get off this ride. Then this moment will be over.

"You made me change my mind too, Saihara. I started to wonder if... maybe life wouldn't always be so bad. I started to hope." He smiles as Saihara rubs his cheeks with a third tissue. "But it's too late to withdraw now. I can't start regretting things now."

"We're going to have our personalities changed."

"Yeah."

"We're going to forget everything."

"Yeah."

"We're going to forget each other."

"...Yeah. But we'll get to meet again, won't we?"

"We might end up hating each other."

"But we might end up being friends again, too."

"Maybe. If we don't die first."

They hold hands, Ouma's thin fingers melded into Saihara's sweaty ones. In their palms are 4 used tissues and a crumpled acceptance letter. The ground approaches.

"Saihara, I really like you. Maybe I love you. I don't know. It confuses me."

"That's strange, Ouma. I feel the same way about you."

"We're two of a kind, then." Ouma's lips meet in a soft smile.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?"

"N-No, of course not..."

"Do you want to?"

Saihara leans closer, his pale golden eyes caught in a world of violet. Ouma's breath stutters and he can feel it on his neck.

"Please."

Their noses smush together as Ouma makes a small noise of surprise. His lips are on Ouma's. Saihara's lips are on Ouma's. Their lips are dry and flaky and pressed against each other and it tastes like cotton candy, Coke, relish, and saliva all at once. He can feel Ouma's breath on his face, he can feel Ouma's hands in his own, he can feel Ouma's tongue on his lips. He pulls away, face growing tomato red.

Ouma stares through him with wide eyes. He raises a finger to dab against his lips, as if testing if they were still there.

"That... felt weird," the smaller boy manages to admit awkwardly.

Saihara snorts so hard it makes his nose hurt. He throws his head back as he starts laughing again, fuller this time.

"H-Hey!" Ouma pouts and kicks at Saihara's shins. "Stop that!"

"Yeah, yeah it really did! It was kinda weird, huh?" He snickers, leaning his forehead against Ouma's. His hair is as gross as always.

Ouma shakes and at first, Saihara's worried he's gonna cry again, but soon he starts laughing too. It's loud and cute and has just the slightest little wheeze in it. Their skulls bump into each other, rattling as their tired bodies shake with laughter.

"I'm so glad I met you."

"I'm not. You stole all my Komaeda merch."

"It's not stealing, it's borrowing!"

"Shut up, you thieving little brat."

"Never. You can't stop me. I'll dispatch my military squadron to quarantine you and collect all your Kirigiri figurines next."

"Oh god, no, not Kirigiri... Please have mercy...!"

"Nah."

Suddenly, the ferris wheel comes to a halt and the giggling duo make their way back to the car despite the blisters forming on their feet. With kawaii future bass blasting at full volume, they fly down the streets deep into the heart of the city. When Saihara finishes his shittiest parking job yet, Ouma pops open the trunk and wraps the two of them in old, raggedy blankets that haven't been used in months.

In the Danganronpa parking lot at 2 in the morning, the teenage boys count stars until at last, they rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, after reading over this so many times, I'm still not satisfied with it, but I regret everything I write anyway so I guess this'll do. Endings are hard.
> 
> If you made it this far, thank you so so so much for reading my story. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I started this fic with just the idea of a pregame saiouma fic that feels less like exploring edgy kinks and more like stupid teenagers that make mistakes. It seems like as time progresses, people just keep exacerbating the "shy Ouma" and "creepy Saihara" thing instead of coming up with different pregame interpretations. Not that I'm one to talk because I do love a good edgy pregame fic, but I wanted a change of pace. I tried to change up my writing style to reflect that.
> 
> The thing that made me absolutely adore ndrv3's ending was how it left room for so many possibilities, and it's up to yourself to find what your reality is. So, I hope to see more unique pregame interpretations in the future!
> 
> As for this one, I took a lot of inspiration from my own experiences. Somehow, it evolved into a really personal piece for me, and the characters sorta fleshed themselves out as I wrote. I'm even considering writing two more one-shots in this AU: one for Ouma's life before meeting Saihara and conversely one for Saihara.
> 
> I imagine for this AU, a world where everything is mostly the same, but more peaceful. There's never a shortage of anything, including people, and that makes for a lot of people rightly feeling like the world is no different with or without them. Danganronpa is a popular, well-loved franchise on the level of the like of Pokémon or the Avengers or something like that. Everyone loves it, and if you don't love it, you still know about it.
> 
> I really wanted Saihara and Ouma to be realistic. I wanted to portray the feelings of teenagers that make stupid mistakes and are still learning who they are. I wanted to portray the feelings where you aren't sure if it's platonic or romantic or just a natural response to being shown attention for once in your life. I wanted to portray the feelings of slow, gnawing guilt and loneliness, overthinking and self-loathing, depression that makes even staying awake a struggle. As well as the shame you feel when for just a while, things start to get better and you wonder why you can't always be happy, wonder until you eventually regret the things you did while at your low. I wanted to portray the ambivalence of wanting close friends but being afraid to expose who you really are, what you really think. And I wanted to portray the longing to know more about others, even though most of the time you will never get the full story.
> 
> Because all of those are things I've experienced and stick with me to this day, even though in different ways as I've changed with time. I hope I was able to get those kinds of feelings across.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you have any thoughts! I would love to hear what you guys think. And I'll try to improve my writing too. This is unbeta'd, so if you catch any mistakes, please let me know! (Except my typos in Ouma's texting. That's on purpose :P)
> 
> Thanks for reading my long, heartfelt author's note.


End file.
